Into the Forest
by Mislav
Summary: A sequel to my story "Enough Nemesis to go Around". Basically how I see second episode of season three. Sherlock and Joan are trying to resume their partnership and friendship, but things between them and NYPD police department are still tense. Things change when they have to investigate double murder that occurred in a camp used to shoot reality show feauturing problematic teens.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**This is a sequel to my story "Enough Nemesis To Go Around", and it is, too, a case!fic. You don't have to read that story in order to recommend this one, but it is recommendable.**

**Cast**

**OC Actor/Actress**

**Andrew = Razza Jaffr****ey**

**Emily Smith = ****Madison Pettis**

**Kyle Daniels = Rex Linn**

**Steve Stanworth = ****Daniel Manch**

**Veck Jonson = Mike Ostors****ki**

**Donald Hotch = Oliver Hundson**

**William R. Moses = Greg Stanworth**

**Melany Smith =Paget Brewster**

**Linda York = Nicola Peltz **

**Alan Stinson = Nathan Kress**

**Sean Peltz = Jaden Smith**

**This is a case!fic, meaning that it centers around the case that Sherlock and Watson are investigating and focuses a lot on it. But don't worry, there will be some character dynamic in this story as well.**

It was eleven pm. Thomas Gregson was sitting at his desk in his office, having just finished going through one of the case files. He was just about to leave when he heard a knock on the door. He sighed and put the file down on the table, rubbing his eyes.

"Come in!", he yelled.

To his surprise, Joan walked inside, closing the door behind. Thomas frowned at her. What was she doing there at such late hours? And she looked somehow... concerned.

"Hi", she whispered.

"Hi", Thomas replied, eying her suspiciously. He couldn't help it.

"We need to talk", she said.

"Sit down", he instructed her.

Joan sat on the chair behind the desk, opposite to Thomas. It was obvious that he was waiting for her to start. She was try to think off what to say for hours, but eventually decided to just say what she has to say out front-or close to it- may be the best way of doing it. Nothing was going to make that any easier, after all.

"He is back."

Gregson frowned. He already knew to who Joan was referring to, that was obvious, he just had troubles comprehending it, the information being given to him out of the blue.

"Who is back?", he asked, managing to hide shivers in his voice pretty well. Not well enough, though.

Joan sighed. That didn't sound promising.

"Sherlock."

Thomas sighed, running his hand down his face. He spent the next several seconds staring at the side of the wall, like he was trying to sort things out in his head. Joan waited patiently, almost afraid of his reaction somehow. He eventually turned facing Joan and spoke. "What does he want?", he asked.

"He wants to work for NYPD again." She remained silent for a moment, letting that settle in. Thomas facial expression didn't change. "For you", she concluded.

"No way", Thomas said determinately, almost immediately after Joan finished the sentence. "He already betrayed my trust once, and I took him back. I am not going to make that mistake again."

"He betrayed me too. And I took him back."

"Good for you", Thomas simply stated. "But I am not taking him back."

Joan bit her lower lip, running her hands down her thighs. It was her turn to play dirty. She hated it, but there was no other way.

She leaned in closer to Thomas, fondling her hands together. Thomas simply raised am eyebrow, but obviously sensed that something important was going to happen.

"If you don't take him back, I will stop working for you. I will quit."

Thomas remained calm. That concerned Joan, but she managed to remain calm too. "If you want to do that, do it", he simply said, his tone of voice cold and professional.

"Do I? Remember the Teeger case? Oh, come on. Sure you do. The one that I had solved... last night, am I correct? Serial killer, who murdered twenty women over the thirty year period. He would tie their wrists and tape their mouth with duct tape, beat them up, rape them, rob them and shot them once in the heart with a .38 Smith&Wesson. You asked me to consult a week ago, after he claimed another victim here, in New York. Even the FBI got involved. You all did your best to solve the case, and still, you were clueless. And then I started working on the case. Among the other things, you gave me the access to all flight records confiscated in that thirty year period, including the ones from airports in Miami, Florida, where first two murders happened, since FBI developed a theory that the killer may be traveling throughout the states using an airplane, but none of you could find a link to prove that. A one person who was traveling on all that places in the same time. But I managed to find him. I noticed that some of the names on the list are all names of the minor characters that can be find in George Simenon mystery novels and stories. Actually, anagrams of the said names. You must have heard of him. A famous Belgian mystery author, one of the most prolific 20th century writers. Anyway, I noticed that one of that aliases was used two days before the murder on an airport in Miami, Florida. Miami police detectives recovered the security camera footage from that airport. On it, they spotted an oldery man buying the two way New York airplane ticket: the time was consistent with the one on the record. It was a high quality camera. They ran his face through the facial recognition system and found a match. He was smart enough not to use his credit cards while in New York, but hundreds of police officers visited every hotel in two hundred mile radius from the crime scene, showing his latest photograph and asking if anyone checked in under the name in the last seven days. And, within a day, you found him, and arrested him. Sixty years old Danny Teeger, convicted of rape back in 1975, originally from

Miami, but had been living in Texas since 1999. He was the prime suspect in first two murders that occurred back in 1984, but there was no sufficient evidence to convict him and there was no apparent link between him and the later murders. If I remember correctly, in his hotel room, you found ten fake passports, duct tape that matched to the one used on the last victim and on several latest victims, and the gun that ballistics confirmed was used to commit all twenty murders. The one that he would cleverly smuggle by wrapping it in aluminum folia and hiding it inside one of his books. And after two hours of interrogation, he confessed to everything."

Thomas remained silent, his fists clenched, his lips pressed together tightly. Joan looked away for a moment and licked her lips before leaning in closer and continuing. "The truth is, I don't have to work for you. And Sherlock doesn't have to either. He worked as MI6 agent for five months, for God's sake. But we want to work for you, and you need us. However, this particular issue is a deal breaker for me." She leaned back in the chair and crosses her arms over her chest. "Do you really want to work without both me and Sherlock?"

Thomas frowned before sighing and pinching the top of his nose in a sign of distress. He didn't want to admit that, but he was cornered.

~TWO WEEKS LATER~

And in the forest dozens of miles away, a middle aged man named Veck, dressed in T-shirt, shorts and hiking groups, was leading a group of six teenagers, dressed pretty much the same way, to the cabin on the top of the small hill in the middle of the forest.

"Come on, hurry up!", he yelled. "It is close to lunch time!"

"Will we have for lunch again?", one of the girls, Judy, groaned.

"That is a surprise", Veck replied sarcastically as he and the teenagers made their way to the front door. He took out a set of keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, opened them and then stepped inside, followed by Judy and later the other five. As soon as she stepped inside, Judy let out a scream, her eyes centered at the specific spot on the kitchen floor. Several other children gasped in shock, some of them looking away. Veck looked in her direction too, and almost jumped in place at the sight. There, on the floor, laid a dead body of fifteen years old Emily Smith, covered in blood, bloody knife on the floor next to her. There was another dead body lying on the floor near by, the one of a forty years old security guard named Kyle Daniels. Right side of his head was almost completely bashes, bloody and broken fruit bowl lying on the floor next to him.

#

Joan was sitting at the table in cafe opposite to her new boyfriend, Andrew: the two were drinking coffee and sharing breakfast together.

"And that's what I told him", Andrew said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Joan glared at him. "Really?"

"Yes."

"What did he do?"

"What could he? He turned around and walked away."

"I wish I was there", she said with a chuckle before taking a sip of her coffee. Upon hearing her ringtone go off, she picked a phone out of her purse and read the text.

Captain Gregson

Double murder, a suspect on the run. Go there, bring Sherlock. Marcus will send you an email with more information soon.

Andrew shifted in his chair, having a pretty good idea what was going to happen next. "Something work related?", he asked.

Joan raised her head to look up at him. "Yes", she said, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry, but I gotta go to." She stood up, showing her phone in her purse. "So... tomorrow at eight?"

"Yes", Andrew smiled, nodding his head. "That sounds good."

#

Sherlock twitched before taking another sip of coffee. He was sitting in his armchair, in living room, still wearing his robe.

"Change", he eventually exclaimed. He stopped for a moment before continuing. "Something that I had been considering for months: do I like the change or do I not? Am I so eager to avoid even small changes, as long as they involve people that I respect, that I could go as far as create even bigger changes as long as they distance myself from them? After all, that's the reason why I did what I did. One of the reasons." He then stopped, glaring at the chair posed opposite to him, like he was waiting for an answer. Like phrenology bust named Agnus, placed on that chair, could have said him anything.

"This isn't going to work", he mumbled to himself and then placed the bust back on the shelf. Upon hearing the sound of his phone going up, he walked over to his desk and picked up to read the text.

A CASE. MEET ME IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES.-WTSN.

#

Within forty minutes, Joan's car was already heading up the highway, Sherlock sitting on the passenger seat. Joan already gave him basics regarding the case, but some things still remained unclear, even to him.

"So, we are going to the camp?", he asked.

"Brat camp", Joan specified. Her tone sounded a bit jaded. Sherlock frowned. "Brat camp?"

Joan sighed. "Brat camp is actually a reality show that takes place in a camp that is set in the forest that is territorially stationated in New York, but is pretty far from all... let's just say 21st century stuff", she explained. "Parents send their misbehaving children, teenagers, ages twelve to seventeen, there. That children are basically abducted from their rooms in the middle of the night by thugs hired by the producers and taken to the camp where the supervisor explains them why they are here , what are they supposed to do and for how long. They are supposed to be there for a month, in case you're asking. They work in a garden and go hiking and camping or even dig holes, whole day. There is a house there, with rooms and anything, but that's just a ruse. They only eat and sleep there. They often sleep or take classes outside as well. If they break the rules, they get more manual labor. They have no access to technology at all and are allowed to have little to no contacts with their family, and no contact with their friends, little to no privacy, and they are under surveillance 24/7. They can talk to a psychologist who works there, but only on schedule and they are not obligated to do so. They attend classes too, in January, March and October so they wouldn't fall back a year. The show is being shoot four times a year with four different group of children: January, March, June and now, in October. Every group is consistent of eight children. Four turns, four months, ten different episodes, forty episodes in total. "

"And now, one of the participants of the show got killed there today, and so did one employee, while another participant went missing", Sherlock noted. "Why are we called in if there are security cameras everywhere?"

Joan nodded her head in a sign of an agreement. "For some reasons, cameras didn't work. Anyway, Emily Smith, fifteen years old, is murdered. And so is the security guard, forty years old Kyle Daniels. Steve Stanworth, seventeen years old, is missing. And apparently, he is already a prime suspect in Emily's murder."

"Which would explain why he disappeared", Sherlock noted. "Hm."

"Nothing in particular, not yet, not before visiting and observing the crime scene. But it already sounds too convenient too fast. That is never a good sign."

"You think that Steve may be dead too? Or abducted?"

Sherlock just shrugged, looking through the window. Obviously, a gut instinct and some common sense regarding the matter was all that he had to offer at that point. But Joan knew that was going to change as soon as they arrive at the crime scene.

"You seem to know a lot about... the topic", he suddenly commented. Joan was taken aback by that, but said nothing. "I find it hard to believe that you had learned all that this very morning."

"I did some research on the topic. Years ago, while I was still working as a surgeon. I treated a boy who was in one of the camps like that. A tourist from New Zealand. He attempted suicide. Jumped off the building. And remained paralyzed. From the waist down."

Joan parked the car on the side of the road and she and Sherlock emerged from it, closing the door behind and already putting the gloves and shoe covers on while making their way to the cabin. Thomas frowned at them before leading them under the line and then inside.

Joan felt herself shiver upon seeing teenage girl lying dead, slayed, on the floor. Forensics were all over the crime scene. Marcus was standing near by, evidence bag in his hand, close to another man. SWAT team commander was standing in the corner of the room, talking on his phone. CSI's were already processing the scene.

"The victim, as you know, is fifteen years old Emily Smith", Thomas explained as Sherlock and Joan walked closer to the body, Marcus walking over to them. "Medical examiner estimates that she was murdered somewhere between one and two pm. She was stabbed to death, ten times, over chest and stomach, probably with the knife left on the scene. She also has cuts on her hands-she put up a fight. We may find a DNA under her fingernails."

"We also found this strange list on the kitchen table", Marcus said, approaching Joan and handling her the evidence bag. She took it and read the list out loud, frowning as she did. "A baseball ball, a blue pen, a green baseball cap, a date book and a cardboard box."

"She has a bruise under her neck", Sherlock noted, looking at Emily's body. "Not a cut or a scar, a bruise. A relatively fresh one too. It seems to be consistent with the blade of the knife used to murder her. Maybe the killer threatened her with it before murdering her. Held her at knife point for some reason."

"All drawers containing knives and dishes were locked, but one of them appears to had been forced open. There are two partial shoe prints on it. Killer took the knife from there. There is one other knife missing too. If Steve killed her, and it appears that he did, he is now armed and dangerous."

"Only the two of them were inside", Thomas explained. "Supervisor confirmed that he was problematic. Both front and back door were locked and there were security cameras everywhere. For some reason, none worked. It appears that he escaped through the window. Second victim is Kyle Davis. He died at about the same time as Emily. The killer bludgeoned him to death with a fruit bowl. He worked as a security guard, spending time in a room designed specially for him. He would sleep there as well. He was supposed to in case something goes wrong. Apparently, he didn't even got a chance to fight back."

Joan suddenly handled the evidence bag back to Marcus and then bend over, examining the knife closely. "There is some blood on the blade too... and there are some strange impressions inside it too", she noted, and then snapped a photograph of the knife using her IPhone. She then looked up and around the room once again before giving the rest of summation. "By all accounts, after murdering Emily, the killer, whoever he or she was, washed his hands and probably his or hers face too, as evident by traces of blood in the kitchen sink and on the cloth on the table near it, took another knife from the drawer, and went toward the window. He picked up the trash can and tried to break the glass with it. There are marks on the glass that indicate that. When that didn't work, he used the trash can to break the window out of it's frame. That did work. The window fell out of it's frame, the killer threw the trash can on the floor and ran away through the window." She looked outside longingly. "Presumably into the forest", she said, sounding like she was deep in thought.

"Several of our troopers are searching the near by area using police hounds", the SWAT commander responded. "So far, there are no signs of or tracks that may help us locate him. Trained hounds followed his smell into the forest for a while, but they lost it soon. The ground is pretty hard in this area, so there aren't many usable shoe prints. Two of our agents will also monitor the area from a helicopter. It will arrive here in about half an hour."

"Good", Sherlock said, nodding his head. He did listen to the commander, but paid closer attention to the blood splatters and victim's wounds. "Judging by what I had seen, I can tell that the killer is between 5'9 and 5'11 tall, strong and right handed."

"Sounds like Steve."

Both Sherlock and Joan immediately turned toward the direction from where the unfamiliar voice came from, taken aback by a sudden comment. The man who shared his suspicion with them was the one standing in the very corner of the room, tall and buff middle aged Caucasian man with short grey hair and black eyes. Marcus just finished interviewing him.

"And you would be?", Sherlock asked, glaring suspiciously at him while in the same time moving four steps closer to the man. Joan also stepped a bit closer, following Sherlock, but kept a little more distance at first.

"Camp's supervisor. Veck Jonson."

"I see. Can you catch is up with... let's say a way of living around here?"

"I already said everything I know to detective Bell. Kids wake up at seven am, make their beds, shower and have breakfast. They are supposed to be done by eight am. Then they go outside, with me, to work in the garden. It usually lasts up to ten am. Then they have half an hour break, after which they go on a walk through the forest with me. We usually return to the house till about two thirty pm. They have half an hour to take some rest and/or use the bathroom. We all have lunch at about three pm. Then they attend classes till about seven pm, have dinner. and go to sleep at ten pm."

"So, it is safe to assume that everything went as planned today-up until the point you found Emily's body?", Sherlock asked.

"Yes. We found her when we came back home for lunch. I still can't believe it."

"Emily didn't come with you?"

"No, and neither did Steve . Every Friday we leave two of the kids inside the house. Their job is to find five idoms hidden inside, by working together. I chose that two kids myself every week."

"That would explain the list that we found on the table", Sherlock mumbled.

"And this week you chose Steve and Emily?", Joan asked.

"Yes."

"Were there any incidents happening here recently? Something that may help us with the investigation?", Joan asked.

"No", Veck answered after the short pause, sounding somewhat uncomfortable.

"That was terrible", Sherlock came clean right away. "Now, the truth, please."

"Some kids got into fights. Nothing too drastic. It happens all the time. And two days ago somebody broke the security camera positioned in front of Emily's room door. We never found out who. That is sort of a reward to children who behaviour themselves really well."

"I heard you said that Steve was problematic."

"He started behaving himself lately. I though I'd give him a chance. Maybe I was wrong."

"Do you know did Emily or Steve have any enemies?", Joan asked.

"No."

"Did any of that incidents that you mentioned involved Emily or Steve directly?" Any dalliance between them?", she asked.

"No."

"And nobody else was here?", Sherlock asked.

"Our psychiatrist, dr. Donald Hotch. He stays and works in a small house near by."

Sherlock's eyes flew all over the floor. "There are small blood smears leading too..."He followed the trail of blood up until the room door with number three written on it, followed by Joan and, then raised his head to face them. "This room. Room number three. Whose room is it?"

Veck sighed. "Steve's room."

"Is it locked?"

"All the rooms get locked before we leave and unlocked once we get back. They also get locked after children go to bed and get unlocked before we wake them up. When it comes to tasks like these, we leave the participant's room doors unlocked. In fact, we even hide the idoms in their rooms sometimes. Steve's and Emily's room doors were left unlocked."

"And they have no access to technology at all?", Joan asked, sounding almost shocked.

"That's right", Veck said, almost sounding proud. "Nothing except for security cameras and alarm button in their rooms that they can press if there's trouble at night when the doors are locked."

Sherlock nodded his head, faking understandement, before opening the door.

The room was small, consisting off the bed, nightstand table, and a closet. The closet was wide open and almost completely empty, and there were traces of blood on the floor right next to it, preceded by small traces of blood on the floor leading to it.

"Forensics found blood stained clothing inside", Marcus explained. Sherlock just nodded his head before turning back to face Veck.

"What was Emily's room number?", he asked.

"Eight."

"Good. Me and Joan are going to search both rooms. And I advise you not to let any of the participants or employed to home. Not yet. And that applies to you as well."

Veck couldn't believe his ears. "They are scared and the murderer may be on the loose in the near by area!"

"If you let them go, they can easily cover their tracks or disappear", Joan explained.

"We already know that Steve did it!", Veck cried.

"We don't know anything yet, actually", Sherlock said, firmly. "What we know so far is that Emily is dead and Steve is missing. Nothing more or less than that." He stopped to pace around the room a little, like he is trying to think of what to say. "Me and Joan are going to search Steve's room and Emily's room and, later, talk to the psychiatrist. In the mean time, you better ensure that nobody leaves the premises. And we will also need access to all the tapes made here up until this point."

Both Thomas and Veck shot a death glare to Joan and Sherlock before turning around and walking away, down the hallway. Joan looked after them and sighed before joining Sherlock in Steve's room, closing the door behind.

"Obviously, he packed and left in a hurry", Sherlock said, staring into the empty closet. "Almost no clothing left, but some of it is sprawled onto the floor. He had a backpack that is now missing."

"You noticed the backpack buckle on the closet floor", Joan noted after the short observation. Sherlock gave her a small smile. "Nicely spotted, Watson", he complimented her.

Joan sighed. "I know that we are supposed to look at this objectively, but so far I have hard time believing that he isn't guilty."

"Actually there are already some suspicious details. For example, the look of the partial shoe print found in Emily's blood and the fact that blood smears leading to his room were barely noticeable, which is why I didn't notice them at first. That indicates that the blood was already dry when he stepped in. And who and how disabled the security cameras?" He then looked around the room once again and added, somewhat mysteriously: "But we'll see."

"You know, maybe you are up to something", Joan said. "The guard had keys to open front and back door, but Steve apparently used the trash can to kick the window out of it's frame, to run away. Like he was upset. Unable to think logically. Not exactly a trait of a double murderer."

Sherlock looked around the room once more as Joan approached Steve's bedside table. Sherlock lifted the mattress off the bed and found the notebook hidden under it. He picked it up, curious.

"Well, let's look what we have here", he proudly exclaimed before cracking open the notebook. It turned out to be a scrap book, actually: news clippings had been taped on the pages. All of them reporting about one particular incident.

"Huh", Sherlock commented, almost sounding confused. "He was making a scrap book out of the news articles reporting about the car crash. A woman, thirty four years old Alicia Benes, died. Apparently, she was drunk and fell asleep while driving. She drove her car off the road, into the ditch, and hit a rock. The air bag went off, but her head hit a driver's side window, breaking it's glass. One glass fragment slashed her neck aorta, killing her. "

Joan looked up at Sherlock and frowned, stopping her search for a moment. "Why was Steve so interested in that?"

"That's what we have to find out."

Joan continued searching the drawers and soon found a clue: another notebook. She picked it up and started going through it.

"It looks like he was keeping a diary. Last entry being made yesterday. It may help us find out the motive he might had for hurting Emily." She placed the notebook in an evidence bag and then put it in her purse.

"Alright, Emily's room now."

#

Emily's room looked pretty much the same. Her closet was filled with casual clothing, and inside, there was also a cardboard box full of books.

"Well, she definitely liked romance novels", Joan concluded while going through the books. Sherlock was picking up pieces of paper from the trash can with a plastic tweezer and putting them together on the nightstand table.

Suddenly, Joan got up, having noticed something. "Look at these impression on the pages inside the book", she said, showing the opened book to Sherlock, who turned around to look at it. "It looks like she was keeping something in there, between the pages. Something that is now gone." She took a closer look at that impressions. "CD's, maybe..."

"Smaller CD's than usual, it would appear", Sherlock commented. "Like the ones that you would use for tape recorders."

Joan stored the book in an evidence bag that she took out of her pocket, then sealed the bag and showed it down her purse. "I better take this to the lab."

"There it is", Sherlock proudly exclaimed, looking at the note, now in one piece. "Our next clue..."

Sherlock and Joan, who approached him, and they both read the note.

"You are dead you stupid bitch."

"Two possibilities", Sherlock exclaimed once the time was right. "Emily intended that note for someone, eventually changed her mind and ripped it and threw it in a trash can because she changed her mind about passing it on. Or she received that note from someone and ripped it in rage upon realizing who passed it on to her and what did it read."

"I am not an expert, but according to this letter, I can see that the her handwriting doesn't even come close to resembling the one on the note. So... theory number two."

Sherlock nodded his head in agreement before snapping a photograph of a note with his IPod. "We better tell captain Gregson to order collecting of handwriting samples from all the children and employees here. And to obtain a sample of Steve's handwriting as well." He showed the IPod in his pants pocket and then leaned over to sniff the note. "Ripping and trash can mostly obscured the smell, but I can still sense a strong smell of Eucerin. I'm sure that forensic testings are going to reveal the same."

"A hand lotion." Joan noted. Sherlock nodded his head and stored the pieces of paper in an evidence bag. Then he put it in his pocket and started going through the drawers.

"Nothing special in the drawers. Papers, pens... Huh." He picked up one of the pens and examined it closely. "There are some unusual scratch marks around the end of this pen. They look fresh", he noted before taking an evidence bag out of his pocket. He put the pen in the bag, sealed it and showed it back into his pocket. "Maybe forensics will find something useful on it", he commented. Then he looked around the room once more before exclaiming: "Alright, lets talk to the psychiatrist."

#

Psychiatrist Donald Hotch was a man in his early thirties, obviously nervous and concerned about the event. His ordination was big, and he was sitting behind his desk while Joan and Sherlock were sitting on two chairs facing opposite to it. "Yes, Emily talked to me several times." Donald sighed and rubbed his forehead."I still can't believe that she is gone."

"Did she mention something that may help us with the investigation? Do you know did she have any enemies?"

Donald looked up at them without saying anything, looking like he was confused or unsure what to do.

"You can tell us now", Joan said softly. "She is gone."

"She mentioned that she feels weird around Steve several times, but other than that, nothing. Did he kill her?"

"We don't know yet", Sherlock said. "We only know that he is currently missing. Did he ever talk to you? Do you have any idea where he could be hiding?"

"No."

"You didn't see or her anything suspicious?", Joan asked.

"No, my place is situated too far away. I'm sorry."

"It's OK."

#

"What exactly are we looking for?", Joan asked.

"Any kind of evidence, a clue... something that could help us shed some light on the case or determine where Steve is heading."

"This branch... it is out of place. There are no other branches around or trees near by." She picked it up and examined closely. "Medium size, pretty hard, solid... some scratch marks on one end... and a piece of glass seems to be embedded into it. It might have been used to break the security camera in front of Emily's room." She took an evidence bag out of her pocket, put the branch in it, sealed the bag and then observed the branch some more. "I am going to give that to CSI's", she commented.

"Good idea", Sherlock agreed. "But as long as we are alone and finishing our work here, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How is your new relationship going?"

Joan glared at him, eyes wide.

"I am just asking you that as a friend."

Joan sighed. "His name is Andrew. He's a nice guy. We started seeing each other about three weeks ago. Nothing serious yet, we are just hanging around, have fun. Talk. So... it is going fine. Thanks for asking."

"I'm happy for you. That's good. Not that I would know, but it seems like something I would enjoy."

"I do."

"Have you already engaged in act of..."

"Alright...", Joan cut him off. "You are not going there, Sherlock."

"Did he..." Joan shoot him a dead glare. Sherlock looked away. "OK, sorry."

They both looked up at the sky at the sudden weird sound coming from above.

"The helicopter is here", Sherlock noted. "The game is afoot."

"Yes...", Joan said longingly, looking up the sky with Sherlock in tow, before turning towards him and saying: "I think we should split now."

"I and Marcus are going to talk to Emily's parents, and you could go talk to John's parents. If you want."

Sherlock nodded his head before saying: "That is a good idea."

Joan couldn't help but be taken aback by his sudden compliment. But again, he probably learned his lesson after their... reunion. "You and Marcus could talk to Kyle's wife and son as well."

And so, the game was afoot.

**A/N: I just want to say that I have nothing against Kitty and I actually think that she could fit well but maybe not in a long run, and Elementary is about broken people in repair and they say that she suffered a horrific trauma in London five years ago, I just couldn't find a way to include her in my previous story or this one. I did include Andrew though. I do hope that this story, too, will help us Elementary fans deal with the hiatus. Only five more days left...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**I sometimes feel like I actually am one of Elementary writers. ****For example, I was planning to write an Elementary fanfic entitled "The Five Orange Pipz" based on that story and now I found out that second episode of season three will have the same title! Freaky...**

Steve's father, Greg, was tall and thin middle aged man, with dark, greyish hair and black eyes. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, opposite to Sherlock, who was sitting in the chair. The coffee table was between them.

"You think that my son killed those people?" His voice was weak, his fingers were trembling. Sherlock remained calm. "So far, we know that three people were in that cabin that day. Two of those people are dead now. Emily and Kyle. Third person, your son, is missing."

Daniel sighed, running his hands through his hair. He was shivering. "I... I just don't believe that. Steve would never do something like that."

"With all due respect, your son wasn't exactly the well behaved kid", Sherlock noted.

Daniel sighed. He didn't look angry or shocked. Just... understanding somehow. "Steve was... problematic", he admitted. My wife died when he was seven and... we somehow grew apart from each other, you know? I didn't pay enough attention to him and... he started to hold that resentment towards me, I guess. I tried to reach out to him, but... I could never find a right away... I don't know. I guess I simply didn't understand him enough."

"Did you know a woman named? Alicia Benes?"

Daniel nodded his head. "I started dating her when he was ten. She would often stay here, sometimes for a few days, but we never lived together. We talked about that, but..."

"How did she and Steve get along?"

"They never got along really well, but they weren't enemies or something. But she died eventually. In a car accident, while driving home from work. It hit him hard. Me too. We grew apart even more. Everything get out of control soon after. I suggested him to go see a therapist few times, but he would always freak out. I found out about the show online, read some good reviews... it was free, I didn't have much money at the time... things with Steve just kept getting worse... I was desperate." He looked up at Sherlock, almost with pleading eyes. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Is your son skilled in hunting? Does ha have a good... survival skills?"

Daniel laughed bitterly. "In rare times when we would spend some quality time together, we would go hiking or fishing. He always liked that. He would often ride a bike, play outside... watched that... adventure and thriller movies."

"Please, just find my son. Alive and well. I don't care what he did. Please. Just that."

"I am going to do everything I can in order to do that."

#

Emily's father, Donald, was staring blankly at the floor, his lower lip quivering. Maybe he was trying not to cry in order to keep some control over the situation, since his wife, Mary, was crying, and maybe he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his daughter was dead. Ten minutes had passed since the revelation, and neither Joan and Marcus knew when to start interrogating them. But was the first one to look up at them and speak up. "She was a good kid." He stopped, knowing that that statement probably came out as odd, given the fact where Emily was when she was murdered. Maybe he felt a need to defend his daughter, her reputation, to let the people working on the case know that she was a good person? "Mostly". He took

a deep breath, looking away for a moment, like he had troubles finding words to describe that whole... situation. "When she was fourteen, her best friend died. In a car accident. She never really learned how to cope with that.

"We did our best to be there for her, but it wasn't enough", Mary said.

"She started skipping school, lying to us, arguing with us... One time she took my car without permission and went out for a ride late at night. She caused an accident. Nobody was hurt, but she really wrecked both mine and one other car. We are still paying off the damage. For us, that was the last straw. I heard about the show before, watched it few times when nothing else was on TV... I never thought that I'd have to send her there. We sent her here within two weeks after the accident."

"Did she have any enemies?", Joan asked.

Mary Smith shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "No. Everyone liked Emily. The guy who owned the car that she ruined... he was really nad at first, but I don't think that he would've killed her."

"What is his name?", Marcus asked.

"Symon Frank", Mary answered. She suddenly let out a sob, looking down at the floor, her hands fondled together, like the full realisation of what happened to her daughter struck her all over again. "We should have never send her there", she whispered, her body almost shaking as she tried not to lose it. "We should have known."

"You couldn't have known", Joan said softly. Mary was gently embraced by her husband as she buried her head in his chest, clutching at his shirt.

#

Ride toward Symon Frank's workplace in Marcus's car was surprisingly silent, and pretty awkward, actually. Maybe it was because of the sad situation at Smith's family home.

"I am sorry about what I did", she finally said. Marcus just glared at him for a moment before turning hid attention back to driving. He said nothing.

"I am sure that you already know about what I said to Thomas", she clarified, growing even more uncomfortable by that point.

After several seconds of silence, he finally spoke, keeping his eyes on the road the whole time. "That is none of my business. As long as you don't blackmail me, I hold nothing against you and Sherlock."

She eventually said, still looking away: "I did what I had to do."

#

Soon after, they arrived to the warehouse where Symon worked. He was there, wearing T-shirt and sweat pants, moving some box into the back of the van. He was tall and well-built Caucasian, blonde-haired man in mid thirties. He didn't even notice them walking towards him until Marcus spoke to him.

"Mr. Frank?"

Symon looked up at them, smiling politely. "That's me. How can I help you guys?"

"We're from police. Detective Marcus Bell and consultant Joan Watson. We need to talk to you about the murder of Emily Smith", Marcus explained.

Symon's face turned serious, but he remained calm. "Yes, I already heard it on the twelve o'clock news today. I'm sorry to hear about that. I have nothing to do with that, if that's what you're wondering."

"She did ruin your car", Joan noted.

"Sure, I was angry at first, but I'm over it now. Her parents are paying off the debt quite regularly." He frowned at them, running his hand through his hair. "Besides, heard that police thinks that some kid from that camp did it. Steve, right?"

"We are not sure about that yet", Joan noted.

"Where were you today at about ten am?", Marcus asked.

"I was at home, alone. My shift starts at one pm. And before you ask, I don't know did she have any enemies or would anyone want to hurt her. I barely knew her."

"OK. We'll be in touch. Just in case, don't leave the city." Joan and Marcus turned around and left.

#

Joan sighed, growing even more impatient once she walked into the cabin and made her way toward the dining room, looking for her , Sherlock. She stopped in her tracks once she saw him, surprised by what he was doing. Sherlock was standing in front of the dining room table, showing various idoms from grocery bags placed on it down the two backpacks.

"Uhm... Sherlock... what are you doing?"

"Workina on a case, in some ways. You talked to Emily's and Kyle's family?"

"Yes. I didn't find out much. We have a possible suspect, Symon Frank, but I am not so sure all about."

"Did all the parents agree to get their children stay there until the killer is caught?", he asked.

"Yes. From what I've heard, the reactions were pretty mixed. Some threatened with lawsuits, while some were actually relieved because they took went on vacations while their children were away. But why did you invite me here? You said that it is important."

Sherlock turned facing her, looking completely serious, which surprised her. "The reason is quite simple, Watson. I am planning to stay here until the case is solved. And I hope that you will agree to do the same."

"But think of the amazingness of that opportunity, Watson!", Sherlock exclaimed, obviously excited, throwing his arms up in the air. "All of possible suspects living with us in this single cabin. We can study them, observe them, 24/7."

Sherlock continued, like he didn't hear what she said. "I already brought you some clothing, a toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, hair brush, notebooks..."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock jumped in place, taken aback by Joan raising her voice. She walked over to him, keeping an eye contact with him the whole time, looking and strong determinate.

"If this is your attempt to convince me to resign to brownstone again... you can forget it. Right now. That is not going to happen."

Sherlock remained firm, but her words obviously had an impact on him. "If that boy really is innocent, wouldn't you like to help him?" He was trying hard to sound calm. He leaned towards her. "I think that it is clear that, in this case, every second counts", he said in a whisper. "And that teenagers are much more complex individuals then many of us think. And in this case, one of them may be a killer. How many times did those things-observing suspects, their behaivour, what they do-among other things, how many times did those methods lead us to a killer? Don't you agree that the best way, opportunity to study them is living among them, if you know what to look for? You must have heard of an old saying "Keep your friends close, and enemies closer". How often do you get an actual opportunity to do that?"

Joan looked... stunned, almost.

"I need to go set up my room", Sherlock said and headed to Steve's room, carrying his backpack with him. "Let me know what you decided once I get back."

#

Sherlock was sitting at the writing desk, watching security camera tapes. Instead of watching them on multiple TV sets, he was watching them on five different laptops.

"For a reality show, this is unsurprisingly dull." He turned around and noticed Joan sitting on the bed, reading. There was another document laying on the bed next to her. He recognized the document: it was a copy of Steve's diary, the of them being given to them by Marcus Bell.

"You are reading Steve's diary", he said.

Joan turned to glare at him, looking almost smug. "Sherlock Holmes, as observant as ever. Yes, I am." She then continued reading it.

Sherlock kept sitting there, motionless, staring at her for a few seconds before asking: "How is it?"

Joan turned facing Sherlock, taking her eyeglasses off. "Frankly, it is disturbing."

Sherlock glared at her. "Really?"

"The diary starts a year ago. He wasn't writing it every day though. I went through about twenty pages by now. He basically writes detailed descriptions of abuse that his father was inflicting on him on daily basis. Locking him in a closet, humiliating him... blaming him for his mother's death..."

Sherlock just kept staring at her, eyes wide. "You look surprised", she noted. "You didn't start reading it yet?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No."

Joan. "You talked to his father today, didn't you?"

Sherlock nodded his head, looking away for a moment. "I did." He turned back to face Joan Watson. "And I honestly couldn't make out, was he a caring but broken man who made some wrong choices or a monster in disguise." He looked away once again, swallowing hard. "It scared me." He hesitated for a moment before saying: "Because in some ways, he reminded me of my own father."

"Do you want... to talk about that?"

"No. Not now."

He then picked up his copy from the bed and started going through it, obviously trying to avoid that subject. Joan sighed, thinking that the best thing to do would be to let the matter drop for now and focus on the case.

"He didn't mention any particular place where he could or reason as to why would he want to kill Emily, at least so far, I didn't even get to a part where he was sent to a brat camp", she exclaimed. "But he did mention his favorite spot in small forest near his house. So, I sent an email to Thomas saying him to inform others of that location and put a surveillance on it."

Young patrol officer opened the door, but she didn't step inside. "Captain Gregson informed me that they identified the person who wrote the note. Linda. He said that you can talk to her as soon as detective Bell gets there."

#

Within an hour Linda was sitting at the chair opposite to bed, Sherlock, Joan and Marcus sitting on the bed, opposite to her. She looked somewhat sheepish, obviously concerned. "Why am I here?", she asked.

Several tense, silent moments followed. It felt like neither of them was sure how to begin the conversation or what to ask her. Finally, Joan spoke. "We found this note ripped in a trash can in Emily's room", Joan explained, showing her the photograph of the note on her IPod. "Your handwriting matches to the one on the note. Your fingerprints are on it too. And also traces of Eucerin, that you use."

Linda widened her eyes, looking even more scared. She fondled her hands together.

"I smelled it as soon as you walked in here", Joan said softly.

Linda shrugged, looking down at the floor for a moment. "I have a sensitive skin."

"Upon examining the tapes closely, I saw you going over to the dining room table during lunch time, pulling a tissue out your pocket, dropping it on the floor and bending over to pick it up and throw it into a trash can. While doing so, you were very close to Emily, who was already sitting at the table. I bet that is when you slipped the note into your pocket."

Linda was thinking hard for a few moments before answering. "Yes, I gave her that note. But I didn't kill her."

"Why did you wrote that note to Emily?", Marcus asked.

Linda looked down at the floor, running her hand through her hair. She looked ashamed.

"We got into a fight yesterday. I didn't know what come over me. I was just so angry... I wanted her to be afraid. To know that she can't mess with me."

"The note was anonymous", Joan noted.

"I didn't need her to know that it was from me. I just wanted to scare her a little."

"It was still a risky thing to do. Rules here are pretty strict", Sherlock noted. "And you did that anyway. Why?"

Joan leaned over, lowering her voice. "Why are you here, Linda?"

After several seconds, Linda looked up at them and answered. "They said that I neglected school."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. I started... slipping from the ninth grade onwards. They tried to get me to do it, but I didn't. So they sent me here." "But I didn't hurt Emily. Or Kyle. I was with others hiking when it happened."

Another short silence followed, like the realization that they wouldn't get anymore information from Linda took time to sank in on them. Finally, Marcus said: "You can go."

Linda stood up, shivering, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind. Almost immediately after she left, Marcus couldn't help but say: "I don't think that this girl is the killer."

"I agree", Sherlock said. "She obviously doesn't have the coolness or the efficiency that would take to carry out something that complex."

"Neither would she be strong enough to slay Emily and bludgeon Kyle Daniels", Joan added.

"But we still need to check the tapes in order to confirm or disprove her alibi."

"Do you know why cameras didn't work?", Joan asked Marcus.

"Not yet. Apparently, their electricity source was generated from a high secured van parked near the cabin. Experts are still searching it, trying to find out why the security cameras didn't work. Anyway... I need to go back to the station."

He left, closing the door behind, obviously in a hurry.

"You shouldn't get too personal with the partcipants."

Joan didn't understand him at first. "What?"

"You felt... you feel sorry for Linda, don't you? Your sympathy is reasonable, but any further pursue of the matter, such as trying to help her, would be useless. This children will come back home in few days, except for those that may be involved in the murder. They will spend the rest of their lives in prisons. We will probably never hear from either of them again. And this show will either continue or get canceled once this investigation is over. Knowing the perverse enjoymemt that today's society gets from seeing others get humiliated, it will probably continue. We have no control over either of those things. We can't, shouldn't get too involved. That would be unprofessional. What we need to focus on right now is finding the murderer. And locating Steve. That two tasks may or may not be one and the same. We'll see."

Joan didn't know why, but Sherlock's advices really annoyed her, despite the fact that she knew that he was right. "Really? Now you are saying me what is professional and what is not?"

Sherlock, surprisingly, remained calm once again. He didn't even blink. "You know that I am right about this. Anyway, we should either continue watching the tapes or read Steve's diary." He passed for a moment before commenting: "If it is authentic."

Joan glared at him. "You think that it may be a forgery?" Sherlock nodded his head. "Why?", she asked.

"If by why you mean why do I think that it is, it's obvious. All of the words seem to be written with firm handwriting, in capital letters. That is not a handwriting of a person who pours his soul out on the paper. And if you asked me as to why would somebody do that..." He stopped for a moment before admitting: "I don't know. To conceal a real motive, maybe?"

Joan went on reading the diary again. "Well, these are copies", she commented. "Real diary is examined by forensics right as we speak. They are looking for fingerprints, DNA... Forensic linguist is going to compare the writing style from the diary with an essay that Steve wrote for school five months ago. We'll see."

#

Andrew sat on the couch in his apartment, can of Cola in his hand. He still couldn't wrap his mind around what Joan just told him."And so, you don't know for how long you will be gone?", he asked, maybe in a desperate attempt to make more sense out of all that.

Joan sighed, pacing around the Emily's room. "You knew that my job is hard and complicated at times. I'm sorry that things turned out that way."

"Are you working on that double murder that happened during the shooting of that reality show. It's all over the news."

"Yes."

"So you are saying me that you are staying in that cabin, with that guy and bunch of troubled teens, investigating a double murder that happened there, while a murderer may be on the loose in the forest that surrounds it?" He sounded almost shocked while saying that.

"They have a good security."

After several seconds of silence, Andrew let out a dragged out sigh. "God..."

At that moment, Sherlock opened Joan's room door. Without knocking. Great. "Watson, dinner!"

"I need to go. Sorry. I will take care of myself, I promise." She showed the phone down her pocket and followed Sherlock into the dining room.

**A/N: And now, Sherlock and Joan will have a dinner with bunch of troubled teens. We all knew that would happen sooner or later.**


End file.
